Chapter
Seven
“Thank God this day is over,” breathed Connor,
flipping the clinic’s window sign to Closed.
To borrow words from a patient’s young owner, it had been “a
totally rotten, no-good, very bad day.” To make it worse, it was
probably his own damn fault. He’d insisted that he could handle
things just fine while Birkie Peterson was on vacation, that he
didn’t need any temporary help.
What the hell had he been
thinking?
His white-haired receptionist and
friend had mentored at least three or four veterinarians before
him, and her efficiency bordered on the supernatural. More than
that, she was well known for her unflappable nature. If a
fire-breathing dragon came through the doors of the North Star
Animal Hospital, Connor had no doubt that Birkie would simply take
its name and direct it to a chair, probably hand it a cup of coffee
and a magazine.
The fire-breathing dragon would have
looked good today, he thought as he poured the scorched dregs from
the coffeemaker into a Styrofoam cup. Other than the fact that he
was still vertical, the day had had few redeeming qualities. He’d
semen-tested six young bulls that had been brought in last minute
by 83-year-old Ivan Chirikov, then dehorned the lot. Ivan had no
phone, seldom came to town, and didn’t believe in appointments. He
was also mostly deaf. It was simply easier to perform whatever
unscheduled procedures he was asking for rather than try to argue.
At least it would be six months or so before the old farmer
returned with another batch of unplanned patients.
Next was emergency surgery on a cat hit
by a car. It was noon before Connor could get back to his regular
appointments, which included a few patients he’d rather not have
seen. Ever.
One was an old dog that was scheduled
for euthanasia. The big Chesapeake was blind, arthritic, and had
soiled the carpet one too many times, including that very morning.
Connor’s Changeling senses could easily read the animal’s
confusion. She didn’t understand why her owners had left her there
alone. She did know that they were cross with her. It was
instinctive for a canine to keep its den clean, a source of shame
to the dog when it failed. Connor ran his hands over the chocolate
fur, now dulled to mud-brown with age. It’s not
your fault, old girl. He had soothed the animal’s mind and
comforted it as he injected the lethal substance. It was over
almost instantly, but unexpectedly he had spent the next few
minutes in the bathroom splashing his face with cold, cold water.
Euthanasia was part and parcel of veterinary practice, but this
time it reminded him far too much of what he had been forced to do
to Bernie. Oh sure, Bernie was still alive. But only part of
him.
A cesarean case came in right before
closing time. The calf was already dead and had been for a while,
the cow nearly so because of the extreme toxicity. It had been a
god-awful mess. Connor had done his very best, used every talent
and skill he had at his disposal, but the unfortunate cow likely
wouldn’t survive the night.
A goddamn perfect
ending to a goddamn perfect day. He sipped the terrible
coffee, half wished it was something much stronger. Like his
father’s favorite whiskey for instance. Connor sighed and wondered
how Birkie was doing in Scotland. She’d been his mother’s best
friend since forever, and had gone with his sister, Kenzie, to
visit his parents. He would’ve liked to have joined them, but that
would have meant closing down the clinic completely.
Of course, things would be different if
he’d listened to his friends and family and advertised for a
partner. Most of the time he resisted the idea. After all, he’d
handled the workload on his own just fine for years. Lately,
however, he had to admit that his practice had grown much bigger
than one vet—even if he was a Changeling—could handle. The North
Star Animal Hospital served a large chunk of the Peace River
country, and the traveling alone was taking up a helluva lot of his
time.
Birkie, bless her, had done her best.
She’d brought in a steady stream of Animal Health Technicians who
needed a few months of practical work experience in order to
complete their diploma. The extra hands were invaluable, and thank
God he had three techs on hand right now, but there was a limit to
what they could do. He needed to bite the bullet and advertise for
another partner.
And he ought to ask Zoey Tyler
out.
Connor picked up a newspaper from a
waiting room chair. Zoey hadn’t returned his calls yet, but maybe
she was just busy. Or maybe she wasn’t interested. He recalled her
face when he had covered her hand with his. She had been flustered,
and he hadn’t needed Changeling senses to discern the jump in her
pulse even as she pulled her hand away. There was interest there
all right. Attraction. Maybe he could build on that.
God knew there was attraction on his
side. And a curious familiarity. He felt as though he knew Zoey,
had known her for a long time. That he might
attribute to the strong psychic link he had been forced to make the
night of the attack. But the attraction—well, that was apparent
from the time he’d first spotted her soaking wet and defiant on the
roof of her truck. Might as well admit it, he thought. Those amber
eyes had him just this side of mesmerized. Her freckles did too.
And as for the rest of her, well . . . as tired as he was at night,
he still couldn’t help thinking about those long legs, and
imagining them wrapped around him.
Of course, there were things to
consider. She was human. She was also a journalist, and from her
writings he could see she had no love for sensationalism. Instead,
she paid close attention to detail and delivered solid facts. She’d
laughed when he told her about the werewolf stories—how would she
react if she knew they were true, that Changelings existed? And
that it was a Changeling, not a wolf, that had chewed on
her?
How would she handle it if she knew
that she was in real danger of becoming one?
Zoey’s leg needed a final treatment in
order to prevent that possibility. And, thanks to Lowen, Connor had
a perfectly good excuse for seeing her again. He patted his jacket
pocket where the bottle of silver nitrate was nestled. He’d
refilled it this morning in the clinic pharmacy, then loaded his
other pockets with gauze and such so he’d be ready to rewrap the
wound tomorrow. And maybe he’d work on asking her out then
too.
Switching his coffee cup to the other
hand, he snatched up a doughnut—an apple fritter, courtesy of a
client—and a half dozen boxes of number 4 sutures, juggling them
all as he headed down the clinic hallway, scanning the Dunvegan Herald Weekly.
Police are advising
residents to be particularly watchful, after an animal attacked and
bit a local woman Thursday night. The incident occurred after 11
P.M. when the woman was approached by a
large canine similar to one of the sled-dog types raised in this
area . . .
Zoey had skillfully managed to present
a credible and balanced story without ever using the word
wolf. She’d gone back to the police, the
mayor’s office, Fish and Game, and even the dogcatcher, and secured
quotes from every last one of them. Somehow she’d managed to
overcome their first impression of her as a hysterical woman
literally crying wolf. The article spoke of the possibility of
coyotes within town limits or dogs gone feral, with references to
previous occurrences of both. But no mention was made of
wolves.
Damn good job.
Damn good professional job, thought Connor.
He tucked the paper under his arm and stuck the doughnut in his
mouth so he could open the door to his office. All his carefully
balanced cargo fell to the floor, however, when he spotted the
enormous black wolf inside.
“Christ, Culley!” Connor slammed the
door behind him as the creature turned strange blue-gold eyes in
his direction. “What the hell are you doing here?” Although the
building was empty, instinct had him switching to mindspeech so he
couldn’t be overheard. I mean it, Culley, have you
gone completely crazy? What if someone sees
you?
The black wolf was sprawled on the
battered couch that Connor used for napping when surgeries kept him
late. The bone-crushing jaws opened wide as the creature yawned
hugely, exposing long, sharp teeth. Dog.
Oh sure, right, like
you could pass for a dog! Get the hell out of here before you scare
my patients. The cows in the livestock wing were unlikely to
react to the scent of a Changeling, but still. . . .
Dog. The wolf
shook itself. Relaxed its body language, dampened its appearance of
alertness. Half-closed its eyes. Slowly, one erect tulip-shaped ear
flopped down, then the other. The massive head dropped, the
powerful shoulders slouched. Coupled with a toothy grin and lolling
tongue, the large creature suddenly looked friendly, almost
comical. Dog.
It’ll never
work. Connor wasn’t about to admit that the small changes
were incredibly effective, particularly when combined with Culley’s
natural coloration. His long black muzzle had a snippet of solid
white right down the middle of it that circled his nose, and there
were white hairs in his eyebrows. There was a very un-wolflike star on his chest and the tip of his tail
was pure white too. What are you doing here,
anyway? Don’t you have some electronic gadgets to fix
somewhere?
Can’t a guy visit his
big brother? Haven’t seen you in weeks. Bill and Jessie sent me to
haul your ass to their house for dinner tonight
or—
A sudden knock at the door made Connor
jump. His heart jumped, too, when Zoey Tyler poked her beautiful
head inside.
“I was just in the neighborhood—” She
glanced down. “Gee, I was going to ask if you’d read the paper yet.
Sure hope that’s not your opinion of my article.”
Connor followed her gaze to the lumpy
fritter soaking up spilled coffee like a sea sponge. The packages
of sutures had fallen clear of the puddle, but the newspaper had
been ground zero. “No, no, I was just clumsy. I—uh—was just about
to get some paper towels from the lunchroom.” He put a hand on the
doorknob, hoping to guide her back into the hall before she looked
up and spotted the wolf but it was already too late. Her eyes grew
wide as she stared at the massive black creature.
“Oh. My. God.”
To Connor’s astonishment, Zoey opened
the door further and stepped inside. She had a hand on his arm but
her expression was one of wonder, not fear. “That is the biggest,
most humongous dog I have ever seen in my entire life. Is that one
of those Belgian Shepherds I’ve been hearing about? Somebody must
have crossed it with a Pyrenees to make it so big.”
Connor latched onto that idea a little
desperately. “He’s definitely an unusual mix.”
“He must have some malamute or husky in
him too. Just look at those gorgeous eyes. Can I touch him? Is he
friendly?”
Any hope he had of getting Zoey out of
his office was dashed as the big black animal jumped off the couch,
seemingly as awkward and clumsy as any puppy. It rushed over,
wagging its tail so madly that its entire rear section was in
motion. “It’s okay, he’s safe,” Connor reassured Zoey. Mentally, he
wasn’t so calm. If you scare her away, Culley, I’ll
personally kick your hairy butt all over creation, do you hear
me?
The creature whined ever so slightly,
looked almost hurt. Good dog.
My ass. But you damn
well better act like one now.
Zoey was far from terrified. She
laughed as she buried her hands in the thick ruff around the
creature’s neck and scratched behind its floppy ears. It chuffed
and whined, rubbing its massive head against her for more
attention. It looked around her and up at Connor with a smug
expression and winked a hazel eye at him. Dog.
How would you like to
be neutered?
The animal curled its lips back in
answer, showing its fangs. Then Connor heard his brother’s laughter
in his mind as the black “dog” shook itself and suddenly stood on
its hind legs. It towered over Zoey, resting its paws lightly on
her shoulders—and licked her face thoroughly.
“Hey!” Connor inserted himself between
them and shoved the creature off balance, forcing it to return to
all fours. Mine! Instinctively he broadcast
the primal word with a psychic punch behind it. The wolf skittered
backward a few inches as if struck. Planted its feet and stared up
at Connor, speculation in those blue-gold eyes. Then it ambled off
to sprawl on the couch.
“It wasn’t hurting me,” said Zoey from
behind him.
“Well, yeah but—but he can’t be allowed
to jump up on people like that. Nothing worse than bad manners in a
big dog, and it can be downright dangerous for old people and
children, you know.” He shot a glare at the creature. It chuffed
out a breath at him and looked away, clearly insulted. Connor threw
an arm around Zoey’s shoulders and gently steered her out of the
office, closing the door firmly behind them.
“You’re sweating. Are you
okay?”
“Just warm,” he lied. He felt very far
from okay. The wolf within him was awake.
Wide, wide, awake and he didn’t understand why. Nor did he have the
faintest idea why he’d reacted so primitively to his brother
licking Zoey’s face. For one fleeting instant he’d very nearly
Changed. Another second and he would have been at Culley’s
throat.
He grabbed a bottle of water out of the
lunchroom fridge and guzzled most of it down before he remembered
he had a guest. “I’m sorry. Would you like anything?” He opened the
fridge door again to show off the contents, but she shook her
head.
“I can’t stay—I’m due at the Rotary
Club in twenty, gotta write up something on their guest speaker.
Really, I just came by to see if I could talk to your receptionist.
I’m doing a story on local wildflowers and someone told me she
knows a lot about plants.”
Knows a lot was
an understatement. “She’s certainly the right source for that.
Birkie gathers plants for medicinal uses, grows her own herbs. I
know she’d be happy to help you, but she’s in Scotland right
now.”
“Wow. I’ve always wanted to visit
Scotland. And Ireland too—my parents are from there. I hear the
British Isles are beautiful.”
“They are. My folks moved to Scotland a
few years ago.” He didn’t mention that he’d been born there, had
spent his entire childhood there, until a rogue Changeling had
killed a human, and the hunts began. The entire sept of Clan
Macleod had been forced to flee, and his parents had brought him
and his siblings to the Peace River country of northern Canada. The
hills and coulees of Dunvegan bore a striking resemblance to the
land they’d left behind. . . .
“I guess you don’t get to see your
folks much then.”
“Not as much as I’d like. It’s pretty
hard to get away from the practice.” Another reason for bringing in
a partner. “My sister, Kenzie, went along with Birkie this
time.”
“I know what it’s like to be busy. You
must wish you were with them.”
“Not at this moment.” It was true. He
was enjoying the scenery right where he was. Connor could feel that
his wolf was close to the surface but it was merely watchful.
Observing. Maybe it was enjoying Zoey’s freckles too. Her fine
features were awash in fragments of gold. The delightful speckling
continued unabated down her throat, over her collarbones and
down—
He yanked his eyes up before he started
peering down her blouse but couldn’t help wondering if her breasts
were covered in golden freckles too. He fervently hoped so, and a
slow, lazy grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, which he
suppressed quickly with a cough into his hand. And more water. He
drained the bottle and tossed it into the blue bin for recyclables.
Remembered to grab a roll of paper towels from a cupboard and
tucked it under his arm. “You know, before my newspaper met an
untimely end, I caught your article on the canine attack.” He made quotation marks in the air
around the word canine. “Nice
work.”
“You think people will take it
seriously? Enough to be on their guard? Because it’s really been
bothering me. I don’t want anybody to get hurt because I made the
decision not to call a spade a
spade.”
“Or a wolf a wolf. Yeah, I think you
struck just the right tone with the story.”
She looked relieved and smiled at him,
that little smile he’d first noticed when he’d been holding her
close in his truck . . . and he really, really wanted to hold her close again. Now. Right
now.
Instead he forced himself to walk her
to the front doors of the clinic and watch her cross the parking
lot to her old red truck. He hadn’t had the chance to observe her
from behind before. Even her injured leg couldn’t disguise her
distinctive walk. The way she moved set off all kinds of intriguing
thoughts . . . like just where did those freckles end?
“She’s pretty, bro.”
Connor spun at Culley’s voice behind
him. “You! What the hell did you think you were
doing?”
His younger brother was an inch shorter
than he, a little leaner, yet the shape of his face was similar to
Connor’s, the bone structure and set of his jaw too. It was obvious
they were Macleods, but there the resemblance ended. Culley was the
family prankster, with a ready grin and hazel eyes that seemed
constantly amused by the world. Full of the
devil, as their mother was fond of saying.
“Just yanking your chain a little, bro.
Wasn’t anyone in the clinic but us at the time.” Culley surveyed
Connor and let out a low whistle. “But let’s talk about
you. You look like shit. And you’re damn
testy today too.”
“Thanks a bunch. I was doing just fine
until you showed up. Speaking of appearances, I’m almost used to
you showing up without shoes, but where the hell are your
pants?”
Culley looked down. He had a shirt on,
and it was even buttoned for once. But instead of his usual jeans,
he wore Homer Simpson flannel pajama
bottoms—with holes in both knees. There was a big hole in the toe
of one mismatched sock as well. “Huh. Guess I was in a
hurry.”
“You’re always in a hurry. Get some
clothes from my office before somebody sees you and thinks you’re
strange.”
Connor shook his head as his younger
brother disappeared. Anything present within the aura of a
Changeling’s body as it shifted into wolfen form was automatically
taken along for the ride. That meant clothing certainly, but also
objects such as wallets, jewelry, even tools and cell phones. All
were somehow suspended in a separate dimension until human form was
resumed. Culley’s twin, Devlin, had made it his mission in life to
discover the how and why of this, constantly experimenting with the
phenomenon. He also studied recent scientific discoveries in
quantum physics which had led to the development of something
called String Theory. Connor didn’t quite
understand the principle—although Devlin expounded on it at every
opportunity—only that this new theory maintained there were far
more dimensions than the three that humans were aware
of.
Culley, on the other hand, couldn’t
care less about the physics of Changeling abilities. He lived for
the pure joy of the Change, the freedom of his wolfen self, the
oneness with the earth. He was quick to Change at any
opportunity—and often a little too quick, Changing before making
certain it was completely safe. He also seldom made sure he was
fully clothed before he shifted. It was a constant source of
amusement to the Pack to see how Culley would turn up next, but
every one of them had also warned him—someday he’d have to return
to human form unexpectedly, and there would be a lot of explaining
to do.
He’s going to show up
naked on Main Street one of these days. Connor headed back
to his office. Once there, he found the soggy mess had already been
cleaned up, and his sutures were stacked neatly on his desk.
Relieved, he tossed the paper towels he’d been carrying onto the
couch beyond and sank into his chair. He watched Culley digging
through the dresser over by the en suite sans pajama bottoms. The
scar on his right leg was still visible although more than a
century had passed. . . .
“Geez, Connor, half the clothes in this
dresser should be burned. Where the hell do you shop?”
“The farm supply store
mostly.”
“It shows. Where is your sense of
style? Even your patients have more fashion sense.”
“My style is just fine, thanks. And I
want those back when you’re done with them.”
Culley rolled his eyes as he yanked on
a pair of nondescript jeans and buttoned them. “Just how much sleep
have you been getting lately, bro?”
“Why are you still here? And why are
you asking so many questions?”
“Hey, I’m on a mission. I’ve got orders
to invite you to supper and not to take no
for an answer. Bill and Jessie are worried about you. We all
are.”
Connor swiveled the chair to face his
brother. “About me? Why?”
“Duh! Your practice has grown way too
large for one person.” Culley switched to mindspeech and added:
Even for a Changeling.
“God, you sound just like Birkie.”
Connor rubbed a hand over his eyes, then gratefully drained the
fresh cup of coffee he found on his desk. “I’ll get to
it.”
“At the rate you’re getting to it, your former assistant, Morgan, will be
able to apply for the job. And she has three years of veterinary
college left.”
“So I’m a slow mover.”
“Well now, there’s an understatement.
Why the hell didn’t you ask that long-legged editor to go out with
you?”
Annoyance resurfaced. “Maybe I would
have if I hadn’t been distracted by a goddamn wolf in my office!”
Or, more likely, his own wolf within. He still felt shaken by its
near-emergence.
“And there’s that temper again.” Culley
folded his arms and tsked. “Completely out of character for you,
bro. And so was that little display of force when I licked your
gal’s pretty face. I’ll bet it pissed you off that I kissed her
first. Almost Changed, didn’t you?”
“Okay, okay, yeah.” It was pointless to
deny it. Most of them could mask their thoughts at will—a natural
defense among telepaths—but any Changeling could tell when another
was about to become a wolf. It took energy, lots of it, and it was
instinctively drawn from the earth itself, gathered from the very
air. The static charge that built around a Changeling vibrated in
the air like an approaching thunderstorm. “I guess I’m a lot more
tired than I thought.”
“You were seconds away from tearing my
head off my shoulders with your teeth! You think it was just a
matter of not enough sleep?”
“Isn’t that what you were complaining
about, that I’m working too hard?”
His brother shook his head and checked
his watch. “I give up. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself.
For now, just get in the truck.”
“I’ve got a herd vaccination in an hour
at—”
“—at Hal Bremner’s place, I know.
Devlin and I already did it. Now let’s move out.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” protested
Connor, but his brother was already halfway down the hall. He might
have known his brother wasn’t out of earshot though.
The hell I didn’t.
Jessie will have both our butts in a sling if you’re not at that
dinner table pronto. Connor had no problem imagining that.
Jessie was leader of the Pack for good reason, and it had nothing
to do with her phenomenal cooking skills.
But her cooking skills were ample
reason to heed her summons.
He chuckled and hurried down the hall
after his brother.